Milk to Tea
by Good Afternoon
Summary: Glinda watches, forlorn, as Elphaba departs –no, not departs, that would insinuate a mutual separation, this was anything but mutual. This was being left.


**AN:** This ficlet sprung from a doodle in my sketchbook of Elphaba sitting in a tea shop window. And seeing as I seem to have a habit now of writing something random on New Years Eve I had to see this through haha. Here's to 2012! Thanks to Throppsicle for still being the awesomest beta around and helping to flesh this sucker out. :) Now it's time to gets my drink on.

**Milk**** to Tea**

There is at least a foot of snow upon the ground, perhaps more. Having fallen from the sky two days ago, it now held the consistency of curdled milk, thick and lumpy. Spoilt and grey. Glinda imagines it must feel much the same to trample through an apple orchard at the end of a season, the ground littered with rotting fruit carcasses, the fermented smell no better than the sensation. There is an occasional reprieve in a spot where the snow has drained down a gutter but otherwise it is a tiresome endeavor and quite distasteful. This is an abysmal start to winter, at least to Glinda anyway. And it certainly isn't the ideal way to spend her afternoon, meandering through thickened slush in the center of town on her way to meet up with the Misses Pfannee and Shenshen. But it beats the alternative of spending her day in the company of what she assumed was an involuntarily cloistered and thereby irate Elphaba Thropp.

The inclement weather had put pause on their afternoon classes.

Or more aptly, the pranks of a few of the boys from Three Queens (of whom Glinda suspected the aloof Crope she ran into on her way to town knew more about than he feigned to let on) had seen to the halt of a day spent in academia. A door frozen shut here or there made no matter. But a majority? And with _soiled_ ice? Morrible had, passive aggressively, seethed as she made the announcement to the girls of Crage Hall that morning over breakfast. Much to her contempt – as evidenced by the ghastly purple vein on her neck which seemed to throb more with each smile that broke out – the news was well received. Very, _very_ well. For nothing could please the young collegiate masses more than a veritable day free from the very pursuits they were so inclined to undertake. As the other girls rejoiced in the possibilities of an afternoon to lounge and flounce about campus in their newest winter skirts there was but one soul in the room dismayed by the news.

A certain someone who Glinda had watched scowl and collect her things before hastily leaving the refectory, boots indignantly smacking against the floor all the way. It was no surprise to her, of course, that Elphaba would react so slighted by the news. Thursday meant an afternoon spent with Dr. Nikidik and if Glinda was sure of anything it was that Elphaba was more than prepared to reel into him yet again today. She was unarguably looking forward to giving him a verbal lashing. If there was one thing that girl lived for, it was being entangled in oral fisticuffs with someone she deemed an "incompetent and insulting replacement hack." Or at the very least making it known how opposed she was to his existence in general.

A Thursday without furthering her righteous cause would surely send Elphaba into a frenzy of angry words and even more bitter exchanges than usual. She was best avoided all together, or at the very least until dinner. Glinda has promised to eat with her tonight, something she is both dreading and very much looking forward to. Their friendship has waned as of late and Glinda is desperate to set things right between them. She just hopes Elphaba will have calmed by then. At least enough to let Glinda get a word or two in.

Ever since Dillamond's disappearance Elphaba's been… for lack of better word, _tense_. It started small, a spike in the usual edginess of her character. Elphaba's always been prickly. That trait is as much a part of her as her unusual coloring and not soon to change, no matter how hard Glinda tries to quell the quips upon that wicked tongue. To hear of Elphaba in passing always consists of two traits, one a given and the other fluctuating with her temper. The most popular of the season seems to be "the moody green girl?" Glinda is still elated over it, always pointing out to Elphaba that at least people are noticing something_ other_ than her skin first. Progress is progress after all, no matter how small or insignificant Elphaba claims it to be.

But Elphaba has progressed from simply moody to increasingly more agitated. Her wit has become ever more biting, her smiles ever more fleeting. This new tenseness is an all-encompassing strain in her personality. Magnifying all her negative qualities, making her _pricklier_ than ever. A tension that coils its strands so tightly around all aspects of Elphaba's character that sometimes Glinda thinks the green girl will be lost to her impassioned morals and do something truly rash in the aftermath of all her combusted traits.

Glinda tries not to think what that could mean because when she does it makes something flutter uncomfortably in her stomach and a pang of hurt settle in her heart. She will ask after Elphaba at dinner, make sure she's not completely unstrung and do what she does best: defuse Elphaba's scathing wrath. Perhaps they can even indulge in some studying afterward… with some hot cocoa! Yes, Glinda thinks, that is a far lovelier way to spend an evening then listening to Elphaba drone on about injustice and whatever else it is she seems to never shut up about. Not that Glinda doesn't care for those things; she does and has said so to Elphaba on numerous occasions… it's just there is only so much she can handle before feeling as though she may be the one needing to apologize for a regrettable explosion of rash actions.

If only all this Animal business could be settled. Then everything could return back to the way it was. _Poor Dr. Dillamond_, Glinda thinks as she tucks her arms further into her chest, snuggling into the warmth provided by her pea coat. She does hope he is all right, where ever it is they have taken him. Whoever_ they_ are. It's all so confusifying.

Her heel sinks a bit with a loud _squoosh_. Glinda cringes, prying her booted foot from the muck and shaking the offensive snow off. Her nose scrunches, tiny puffs of disgusted clouds vaporizing in the air as she hops up to the equally slushy curb. Whoever was charged with brushing the snow from the cobble-lined streets of Shiz proper had obviously taken leave of their employment and perhaps even their brain. And for a fleeting moment Glinda curses their lack of efficiency. They are getting _paid_ to do this and it has been _two days_, after all. _There really is no excuse for the snow to remain uncleared!_ But then she recalls seeing the plow master once. A Moose, wasn't he? One antler sheared off from some accident years prior? A bit kooky but always_ here_ during this time of year. _Reliable._

The stain on her boot seems insignificant in comparison to the implications of the streets still within the icy grip of snow, even after two days. It serves as a reminder of what is lost… of someone else taken by a system without remorse.

She kicks a bit of the slush frozen atop the gutter below, the ice cracking under her heel's impact. The blockage snaps and the melting snow is quick to flood the drain. The move doesn't take care of all the snow, but it's a start. With a smile Glinda returns to her walk only to stop when a familiar flash of green in a storefront enters her peripheral vision..

And there, sitting in front of the window in a dingy café across the way, is Elphaba. Her strong brow is pulled down, knotted over unfocused eyes. She hasn't shed her coat or her scarf. Her hair falls loosely around her shoulders beneath an equally dark knit cap. She sits staring out toward the street, a small glass of steaming tea placed upon the quaint table in front of her. One hand is cupped beneath her chin, the other distractedly twirls a spoon slowly around her drink. Glinda doesn't find her presence here odd; it is actually becoming quite common to find the green girl lost in thought much as she is now. But what does quirk an eyebrow is the occasional change in the color of Elphaba's tea every after so many lazy stirs of her spoon around the cup.

Without hesitation Glinda makes her way across the road, her strides no longer deterred by the snow. The shop door opens with a creak and the clattering of a few bells above the frame. Elphaba is torn from her thoughts by the sound, her eyes blinking as reality settles around her once more and she turns toward the new arrival. Glinda's face is flushed; cheeks tinged a bright pink against her pale skin as their eyes meet. A small, hesitant smile pulls at Glinda's lips as the blonde takes the two steps separating them, motioning toward the empty chair beside Elphaba.

"By all means," Elphaba says, nodding toward the chair as she scoots a bit in her own to give the shorter girl legroom. It's cramped in the window table, barely enough room for one let alone the two that now occupy the space.

Glinda feels her cheeks warm further as she shrugs out of her coat, apologizing every time her arm accidentally brushes against Elphaba's side.

"You're hardly an inconvenience Glinda, there is no need to apologize every time you feel as though you've crossed some line of decorum," Elphaba muses quietly, still stirring her drink. The spoon barely makes a full turn in the cup as her eyes brighten impishly and her mouth quirks with an implicating half-grin. Softer yet she adds, "as if such a line exists between us anymore."

"_Elphie_," Glinda squeals between clenched teeth, eyes darting over her shoulder in hope that none of the other customers overheard her friend's embarrassing jest. But the café is empty save for them and the proprietor, who is too busy flipping through the pages of her book near the far counter to care about her newest patron. Glinda turns back around, eyes narrowed in displeasure at Elphaba as she asks her, "must you always be so _vulgar_, and in public no less?"

"Oh yes, mustn't offend the _bountiful_ public in here that might have overheard my distasteful comment," Elphaba says with a low chuckle, the smirk still clearly dancing in her eyes as she taps her cup. "Should I apologize to my tea now or do you think I've offended it beyond reconciliation?"

Glinda gives an exasperated huff, slouching in her chair as she purposely, and pointedly, moves her attention out the window ahead. "It's not even tea anymore," she grumbles with a flick of her wrist toward the table.

Elphaba looks down, her brow rising in interest to find Glinda's statement indeed correct. Curious, she stabs gently down into the milky substance with her spoon. "Magic is as fascinating as it is maddening," she says, taking a sip of her new drink and pulling a face as she sets her cup of sour milk back down. "Can't say I've improved upon the original either. I wasn't even thinking of yak milk."

Glinda decides not to question when Elphaba could have come across that particular substance. Instead she looks over at Elphaba, arms still crossed over her chest as she asks, curiosity once again peaked, "how did you do it?"

Elphaba shrugs, pushing the cup away gently. "I wasn't aware I had."

Glinda considers the reply for a moment, recalling how she came to be in this café in the first place. She leans her arms on the table, eyes still very much focused upon the milk in the teacup as she asks, "what were you thinking of then?"

Elphaba fixes Glinda with a telling stare. "I think the more apt question is what am I _not_ thinking of. And be honest with me Glinda, do you really wish to go down that path with me again?"

Glinda sighs, "I suppose I don't. You've been awfully… and don't take this the wrong way, Elphie, I know you mean well but you've been exceedingly_ long-winded_ as of late."

"I have a lot to say," Elphaba counters in a somewhat bitter tone. The words are full of resentment, not toward their recipient, but spoken more so to the world outside the window. Out to those she seems so bent upon changing. Her eyes soften as she glances toward Glinda, "and I know I've been sharing far more with you then you care to hear."

Glinda reaches forward, warm fingers flittering across the back of a cold green hand. Elphaba stares down at the light touch pressed against her skin. A few of her fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to wrap with Glinda's own, to draw on the warmth and acceptance she knows Glinda is so openly providing to her. But she retracts her hand, ignoring the stab of pain flickering in the blonde's eyes at the move as she stuffs her cold hands deep into her coat pockets.

"You have every right to be angry," Glinda tells her, undeterred by her friend's reluctance.

"That's the problem, my sweet," Elphaba sighs. "I'm the only one that is."

"People will begin to notice," Glinda says, sliding in her chair until her shoulder rests against Elphaba's. She nudges her, nodding out the window. "They can't ignore what's happening for much longer."

"And if they do?" Elphaba asks, troubled. "If they stay blind to the obvious wrongs? What then?"

Glinda pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, brow crinkling with worry and thought as she ponders the implications. She is understanding more and more the root of Elphaba's fears. To feel like the only soul opened to the truth and standing in opposition to what it's caused must be burdensome.

A shiver rolls down Glinda's spine as she finds herself moving unconsciously closer toward Elphaba.

The occasional turning of pages is heard from behind them as they sit in silence staring out the window. They watch as a few boisterous students make their way up the street, oblivious to the snow beneath their feet.

Of what it truly means.

"They'll notice, Elphie," Glinda says quietly. "I did."

"You're smarter than them."

"And I have _you_ to thank for that."

Elphaba chuckles, shaking her head as she leans into the blonde's side. "My brooding nature has nothing to do with your newfound intelligence. You were always smart, Glinda."

"But I was stupid for so long," Glinda tells her earnestly. She smiles as she slides Elphaba's drink toward them and plops the spoon back into the lukewarm liquid. "And so long as all your brooding leads to is conjuring different varieties of tea and milk I'm not too worried."

"And if it leads to more?" Elphaba asks, eyes staring intently into the blue ones beside her.

That feeling creeps up in Glinda's stomach again. The sensation tickles in her gut, uncomfortable and pressing all at once. She pushes down the ache that throbs in her chest, swallowing all her fears as she leans over and brushes her lips against Elphaba's cheek. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there," she whispers as she pulls away, pleased to find a darker hue tinting Elphaba's face than before.

Elphaba shifts in her chair, turning to face Glinda more as she pulls her hands from her pockets and takes one of the blonde's own within her palms. "It'll be sooner than you think," Elphaba says, tone conveying her utmost importance and apprehension on the matter.

A weight pulls at Glinda in the wake of the words. Timidly, and with downcast eyes she confesses, "I hope not. I… I'm not ready for whatever _this_ means."

Elphaba squeezes Glinda's hand. "You must be."

"Elphie, I—" Glinda begins to speak but is cut off by a rude rapping of gloved fingers against the glass of the window. Glinda looks up, noting that the hand belongs to a furious Pfannee who is flanked by an equally perplexed and put out Shenshen.

"I'll see you at dinner," Elphaba says, standing from her chair.

Glinda sputters and reaches to pull Elphaba back but the green woman leaves her in a rustle of fabric as the Misses Pfannee and Shenshen storm into the shop past her. Glinda doesn't hear what they are saying to her; her eyes focus on Elphaba's swiftly retreating back. As the girls pull up some chairs, still speaking incessantly as they sit down, Glinda's eyes travel back to the cup.

The milk has at some point returned back to tea.

* * *

><p>Elphaba is late. Uncouthly, unbelievably and - to Glinda anyway - embarrassingly late. The Misses Pfannee and Shenshen have on four separate occasions sent her wayward stares of detestation. <em>Oh wait, make that five<em>, Glinda thinks with a bored sigh as she notices them glaring from over the rims of their tea cups. They are certainly intent on holding their petty grudge from earlier. She kept her promise and had drinks with them, hadn't she? So what if it wasn't in the most ideal of spots. Glinda didn't mind. She stayed as they prattled on. All the while starring out the window, eyes focused upon the corner street Elphaba had disappeared down.

_And speaking of Elphie, where is she now?_ Glinda picks her head up from where her chin rested against her palms. Her eyes lock upon the clock over the hearth on the far side of the refectory dining area. Glinda groans, letting her chin fall back to her upturned hands. It's only been a minute since she last looked.

"_It feels hours_," she grumbles to herself.

She's already eaten her meal and refilled her tea at least thrice. She wishes she had opted instead for the glass of warm milk on her third pass. If anything, at least it would bring sleep to her sooner and she could leave the refectory to fall into her dreams. Her imaginings seem a far better alternative than remaining here like such a desperate - _and pathetic_, Glinda notes - schoolgirl waiting for her supposed date to arrive. Dinner will be ending soon, in ten minutes to be exact. She'll be forced to leave with the rest of the girls then and head back to her room, officially stood-up. Glinda refuses to be stood-up.

It is just something that does not happen to Uplands.

So she will sit here, looking stupid if she must, but sit and wait she shall. Because when Elphaba does arrive the green woman will sit and wait while Glinda gives her a very colorful piece of her mind.

"Forgive me," Elphaba says from just over Glinda's shoulder.

The blonde gives a yelp, tea spilling across the table as Elphaba slides into the chair beside her. The green girl is slightly out of breath, covered from head to toe in her warmest winter clothes. And what boils Glinda's already provoked temper is the simple, almost nonchalant, grin fixed on that winter-kissed green face.

"I see you've eaten already," Elphaba says, dark eyes darting down to Glinda's empty bowl before focusing back again upon the stunned blue ones. "Do you think they made one without the beef?"

"I…" Glinda begins to speak, mouth working to form words which seem unable to materialize. The_ audacity,_ the _indifference_, the— Glinda squeezes her eyes shut, suppressing the curses that wish to manifest and escape upon her tongue. When she opens her eyes again Elphaba's brow quirks at the look of pure vexation being focused so powerfully upon her. "I cannot _believe_ you."

"I did beg your forgiveness," Elphaba points out, dabbing at the mess of tea on the table with Glinda's discarded napkin. "But it seems there are some things no longer within my control."

"You are sitting here, are you not?" Glinda hisses. "So obviously you still retain control _of your legs_!"

Elphaba stares, unblinking at Glinda for a moment, eyes slanted, a question of sorts dancing in her gaze. "If I asked you to go with me somewhere, right now, what would you say?"

Glinda is taken aback by the sudden question. And especially the serious tone of Elphaba's hushed voice. Her anger still remains, but subsides substantially, the question mulling over in her head. The answer is simple though and spoken without second thought. "Do I need my coat?"

Elphaba smiles softly, her cheeks darkening. Glinda notices her touching something just inside the bag which now rests in her lap. She doesn't have to see the pamphlet hidden behind green fingers to know what it is. Just seeing it causes a shiver to roll down her spine. Her throat seems dry all of the sudden, stomach tied in knots.

"W-why do you have a train schedule in your bag?" she asks quietly.

Elphaba doesn't answer immediately, merely diverts her gaze to a few tables over where Morrible sits reading from her ledger. Glinda can see the green woman's jaw tighten, her lips drawn into a thin line.

"Elphie?" Glinda whispers, reaching across the small distance separating them to rest her hand over the clenched green fist on the table. The reaction is instantaneous. Elphaba's shoulders fall, a weary breath exhaled. She turns back to Glinda, worried blue eyes only growing more anxious as green fingers lace with her own. "Where are you going?"

"We," Elphaba corrects her, expression somber. "_We_ may be going somewhere. Soon."

"But Elphie—"

"_Please_," she whispers, leaning forward toward Glinda as she squeezes the blonde's hand gently. Her eyes dart back over her shoulder toward Morrible, the two briefly exchanging a look that only spurs Glinda's anxiety further before Elphaba turns away, eyes now locked intently with Glinda's. The blonde wants to ask her what that was about. Why did Morrible seem so ruffled? Where were they going? _What was going on?_

Her heart beats hard against her chest as Elphaba takes hold of her other hand as well.

She knows what this is about.

Elphaba's built the bridge.

_Not yet_, Glinda pleads silently, eyes imploring the resolute brown ones before her. She shakes her head.

"You must," Elphaba tells her, quickly scooting forward to press a kiss to Glinda's temple. "Please, be ready my sweet."

"Elphie," Glinda whimpers, fingers gripping tightly to the cold green hands clasped within her own.

The green woman says nothing as she stands, untangling their hands in favor of readjusting the bag across her shoulders. Glinda feels her world being uprooted, her head dizzy in consequence. She can vaguely feel Morrible's eyes on her, the stares of the Misses Pfannee and Shenshen joining soon after. She doesn't care for them. She wants to scream at them,_ all of them_, to leave her-_them_, alone. To make the suffocating feeling stop, to bring Elphaba back to that chair.

She's not ready for this.

She's not like Elphaba.

The green woman doesn't even look at her as she walks away.

Glinda watches, forlorn, as Elphaba departs –_no, not departs_, that would insinuate a mutual separation, this was anything but mutual. This was being left. A great huff of indignation rushes past her lips as she slumps into her chair. _She should be used to this_, she thinks. There are only two people in this world that constantly seem to be leaving her without so much as a goodbye. It also isn't surprising they are sisters.

And also why it must be Glinda who is to accompany her.

To be the one who stands beside her, as she's done for so long now, without question.

She's not sure if she can anymore… but she tells herself she must try.

So as she watches Elphaba leave her for the second time that day, this time feeling a little less lost than she did at first. Glinda takes a sip of her tepid tea, giving a sigh at the now bland taste. She thinks she would have been better off with the milk instead.


End file.
